


enamorada

by foxmagpie



Series: little gifts [7]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Soft!Rio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 08:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19460434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmagpie/pseuds/foxmagpie
Summary: Takes place in 2x09, mostly an expanded imagining of Beth and Rio's last time together.





	enamorada

_He’s won_. That’s what Beth thinks when she drives away from Judith’s house after Emma’s birthday party. 

The moment she had walked through the door and Emma had recognized her presence, it was all over. Emma had shot towards her and then hung onto Beth’s hand, refusing to let go, as Beth apologized for being late. Dean had pretended to be shocked at this, mock-asking her what happened, knowing she whatever came out of her mouth next was a lie.

He was testing her. Letting her know he was paying attention. She couldn’t slip things past him. It was over. 

The feel of that little hand in hers was enough to undo her. 

_That Qwik Cash was the last one_ , Beth thinks wistfully, biting her lip. _You helped get Stan out of jail. Now it’s just damage control._

The drive home from Judith’s feels longer than normal, like time is moving in slow motion. 

_You’re not losing much_ , Beth tells herself. Her stomach twists. Beth tries to swallow the thoughts, but can’t. They come in a blur, burst shots of her missteps, her miscalculations of Rio’s feelings: the way he’d let her fail to handle the hitmen, humiliating herself and losing all of her money in the process; the way he’d made her come up with 200 grand to dispose of the body, and how she still didn’t know what he’d done with it. 

He clearly felt nothing for her. She had only looked at the things she wanted to see. But when she was at her lowest, she had asked for his help, and he had refused. She’d believed he was building her up. Now she feels like he’s been laughing at her the whole time.

_You’re wrong. That’s not what’s happening. It’s more than that—you’re just projecting your insecurities onto him—_

No. She can’t spiral like this. 

She pulls the van into the driveway and stares at her darkened, empty house. It doesn’t matter, anyway, how Rio thinks of her, how he feels about her. 

Dean had won. She was done.

–--

The money weighs Beth’s purse down. It’ll be a relief not to carry it anymore. She sets it down on the bar and then drums her fingers along the wood.

 _You can do this_. She smooths her bangs. 

“I’ll have a bourbon on the rocks,” she tells the bartender. He nods and begins making her one. It’s early, so there’s only one other person in the bar, far at the other end. Beth downs her drink like it’s a shot. “Another, please.”

Her kids will be home in under eight hours. Dean had agreed to bring them home under the condition that Beth was done—with all of it. 

One thing had really struck her in that conversation. Beth swirls the alcohol around in her glass, remembering it. Dean had assumed that the reason that Beth had joined “book club” was because he’d cheated on her, not because he’d spent all their money and taken out three unaffordable mortgages. 

Dean truly believed that they were one and the same, that their reactions to being cheated on were equally absurd. Beth chews her cheek. Yes, the other women were painful, but it didn’t really matter that he’d maxed out the credit card on lingerie _for Amber._ The real problem was that he’d spent, recklessly, and brought in no money. That he’d made her feel the same way she felt at 15-years-old when her own father had walked out of the door and left them all to fend for themselves, knowing that they couldn’t. 

Amber didn’t trigger Beth’s fight or flight response—she was a problem easily handled, as Beth had proven. 

Amber was already taken care of when Beth left those pearls on that doorknob. That decision was sparked by nothing other than the deep-seated knowledge that Dean would not be able to figure out a solution for their financial crisis the next month, or the month after that, or even the month after that. 

Dean couldn’t parse out the differences between them. His reaction to being cheated on— _no, that’s not the right word, they were separated, she hadn’t cheated, it wasn’t the same—_ was to hire people to kill the man she’d slept with. _Her_ reaction to cheating had been to set that same woman up with five thousand dollars to pursue her dream. It was an unrealistic dream, sure, but that wasn’t Beth’s fault. She could’ve told Dean to fire her and kept that money for herself. She could’ve left Amber with nothing.

Beth scoffs. Dean thought they were the same...

Beth finishes her second drink. She’s working up her nerve, but she has to stop thinking about Dean and the money and the women. If she’s going to return to her old life, she knows she’s going to have to bury some of these things just to survive.

After Beth’s third drink, she’s finally able to call Rio. She can’t put it off anymore. The minutes are ticking down. 

“Yo,” he says casually, like she isn’t still reeling from their last conversation. 

“Can you meet?” she asks. 

Rio takes a long time to answer. “Sure,” he says finally. “I can be at your place in—”

“No,” Beth says quietly. “I’m at Mayor.”

Rio clicks his teeth. “Aight, then. Mayor.”

–--

When Rio comes in, he fidgets. He pulls his hand out of his pocket and adjusts his jacket and jeans slightly. Then, he leans too far over the bar when he goes to settle on the stool; he grunts; finally, he laces his fingers together tightly. He seems… well. He seems almost _nervous_.

He looks at her, though. She can feel him seeing her, taking her in, studying her. His thumbs press together, but his eyes stay focused on her. 

Beth can feel the tension pressing against her. He looks so _good_. 

“I’ll have another,” she says to the bartender. “And he’ll have a Chardonnay.”

She hopes the joke will break the ice, that she can regain control of herself. She feels unreasonably hot in her blouse.

Rio laughs a little at this, denying the Chardonnay, and Beth hates how much she loves that sound. She wants to make him laugh again. 

“Whatever you want,” she says. “Your tab’s still open.”

They exchange a few more quips. Beth wants to make this part last as long as possible, but she can’t. It’s taking everything out of her to do this, and knowing that makes her feel ashamed. He won’t even care when she tells him, and here she is, delaying it just so she can spend a little more time with him. 

_Just hand him the money,_ she commands herself. _It’s that easy_.

“Cheers,” Rio says when their drinks are filled. 

“Cheers.”

She really takes a long, hard look at him over her glass. This will be the last time she sees him. Ever. The last time she gets to look into his dark brown eyes and see the flutter of those beautifully long lashes. She settles on his lips. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d promised she would kiss them next time. Now she never will.

Rio’s shoulders tense. She still hasn’t told him what he’s here for. 

“Dean’s bringing them home tonight,” Beth tells him. She’s getting the wheels in motion. Only a few more words, and she can go back to her normal life. No harm, no foul. Mostly. 

“That’s good,” Rio says softly, and Beth believes that he really means it. He nods and keeps nodding. He might even expect what she’s about to tell him. He has to have figured out that Dean wanted something in exchange for bringing the kids back.

“And I have your cut.”

“Even better.”

He gives her the softest half-smile. Beth can’t take her eyes off of him, and Rio doesn’t look away, either. His gaze makes her feel exposed, like he’s peeling back her skin and looking deep inside of her. Instead of terrifying her, however, she feels exhilarated. She feels _seen_.

The words are out of her mouth before she realizes she’s the one saying them: “I don’t have it here, though.”

Rio raises an eyebrow at her. He’s trying to figure her out. Despite all the ways he makes her feel like he can read her every thought, she still has the capacity to surprise him sometimes. Why did she call him here, after all, if she didn’t even bring his money? 

“Aight,” he says hesitantly. “Where we goin’?” There’s no irritation in his voice.

Beth stands and grabs her purse, then tucks it close to her body so that there’s no way for him to peek inside and see the money there. “My house.”

She goes to take a step towards the door, but she feels her vision shift. She won’t be driving anywhere.

“I’ve had a few,” she admits.

“Alright, then.” He throws a large bill down on the bar counter. He spins around on the seat and gently reaches out to slide his hand on her lower back, steadying her. “You good, ma?”

Beth swallows. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

–--

Beth stares out Rio’s passenger window. Beth’s never been inside Rio’s car before—he’s always slinking in and out of her van—but she’s surprised at its cleanliness. It’s not like neat-person clean, it’s like _does anyone drive this car around or has it been recently detailed?_ clean. She looks down in the cupholder and the side compartment—they’re spotless. No crumbs or anything. The only evidence that this is, in fact, personally owned by Rio is that Marcus’s booster seat is properly buckled into the back seat, and Rio’s phone syncs with the car stereo system immediately.

The music is quiet but pretty. It’s in Spanish, Beth realizes. The woman’s voice is beautiful, but Beth has no idea what it’s about. She doesn’t know a word of Spanish. She’d taken German at the high school because Dean was in it. Dean was in it because the German teacher was 24 and when she bent over to help a student, he could see down her shirt.

“How you doin’?” he asks her as she studies the passing buildings.

“I’m okay,” she says. “Not good enough to drive, but I’m good.”

“Mhm,” he acknowledges. “So tell me how you got me my cut.”

“Oh, that,” Beth says. With her foot, she nudges the purse further away from Rio. “The usual. Robbery.”

Rio smirks. “‘The usual,’” he repeats. “How you sure you didn’t rob me again, huh?”

“Well, if you don’t want me to rob you, you should let me know which businesses you’re using to wash your cash,” Beth says matter-of-factly.

Rio cocks an eyebrow at her and juts his lip out, bested. 

“You know I’m right,” Beth prods, and Rio’s lip twitches as he tries not to smile.

“Where, though, really?”

Beth lets out a loud sigh. “Qwik Cash. We had to kidnap the guy working there, too.” Beth shakes her head, cringing. “The safe was on a timer so we had to take care of him the whole night. Annie had to feed him a burrito while his hands were tied behind his back.”

Rio laughs. “You know kidnappers aint supposed to be so polite, yeah?”

“I mean, we were already eating so…” Beth trails off.

“Well, then, of course. If you’re already eatin’, you _gotta_ buy the guy you’ve kidnapped a burrito before you rob him.” Rio says, shaking his head and biting back his amusement. “Them’s the rules.”

Beth doesn’t want to talk about her criminal missteps anymore. She tries to change the subject. “What song is this?” 

“Why?” 

Beth whips her head to look at him. God, he is _so_ private. “Because I like it?”

Rio doesn’t look at her, but his eyebrows raise. 

“Who’s it by?”

“You gonna start listening to my music now?” Rio teases. “You even know Spanish?”

“No,” Beth admits. “Look, I’m just surprised you listen to this type of music. It’s so… _soft_.”

“Oh, yeah? Whatchu listen to?”

“These days? Baby Shark, mostly. Some KidzBop with a heavy rotation of Hakuna Matata.”

Rio laughs. His hands rest languidly on the steering wheel, but his left leg won’t stop bouncing. “Yeah, well, we’re both full of surprises, I guess.”

“Well?” Beth asks. “You going to tell me who it is, or am I going to have to Google the lyrics?”

“Yeah? You able to distinguish the words enough to Google ‘em?” He looks at her and his eyes are soft.

“This is a weird thing to be cagey about,” she ridicules. “But am I surprised?”

“I’ll tell you what it’s called if you tell me how you try to Google it.”

Beth looks at him. She knows she’s going to butcher it badly, but she tries anyway. She focuses on listening really hard to the song, and starts typing what she hears into Google. “Quiero… decir…. te... quiero….?”

“Pretty close,” Rio says, trying to muffle his amusement. “But that’s the easy part.”

“Okay, well, you didn’t specify.” Beth blushes. 

“Come on, mami. Try again.”

He restarts the song. 

Beth has never been musical. She can’t sing or play any instruments, nor is she particularly skilled at distinguishing instruments from each other. She doubts she’ll be good at this, either.

“You gonna try or nah?” Rio asks.

“Let me focus!” she hisses. She tries to type furiously while the words pass her by, then reads them for him. “Quiero… decir…. te... mi amorcito? Y…. agh. I don’t know! It’s so fast. Okay—quiero decirte a mi mamá que—agh—eres oficial… y poder… presentar… como mi novio querido. Did I get some of it?” Beth knows her pronunciation was abysmal. 

“Both better and worse than I imagined,” Rio says. He glances at her, charmed.

“Okay, now you tell me what it is,” Beth says.

He rolls his shoulders back, then says, “Enamorada. By Pedrina y Rio.”

“That’s your name,” Beth says. Obviously. Stupidly. She types the title in Google so she can find it again later. “Or is it? What _is_ your real name?”

“Who says this aint a real name? You know a lot about Spanish names now?”

Beth purses her lips. He’s got her there.

“Rio means river,” he says. “Y’know, like the Rio Grande.”

“Makes sense,” Beth says. “I guess I remember one of the kids having a River in their class. It was a girl, though.”

They settle into silence.

“But that doesn’t actually answer whether your name _is_ Rio,” she says. “Even if it’s _a_ name, that doesn’t mean it’s _your_ name.”

“I answer to it,” he says. His fingers flex against the steering wheel. 

She wonders if he’s thinking about her moaning his name into the phone. She presses her legs together a little tighter.

“So what does ‘quiero’ mean?” Beth asks. “It’s all over that song.”

“I want,” Rio says simply.

“Quiero,” Beth repeats. “‘I want.’” 

“Mhm.” He drags his teeth along his lower lip, then says, “And sometimes ‘I love you,’ if ‘te’ is in front.”

Beth’s neck flushes. “Which way is it being used in the song?”

They pull into Beth’s driveway. She hadn’t realized they were so close. Rio shuts off the ignition and looks over at her. “Both ways.”

–--

It’s a day of firsts: the first time Beth has been in Rio’s car, the first time Beth has invited Rio willingly into her home. His hackles seem to be up, his footing uneven. He stands as far away from Beth as possible which is... not what she was expecting. Usually, they’re within a foot of each other. Often he’s so close she can feel him breathe on her.

She offers to make him some food. She’s flustered. She doesn’t know how to make the transition from this to that. She hadn’t planned this though, and regret starts to seep into her stomach. She can’t do this, she’s not good at this. How did she think she was going to make this happen? 

Beth’s nerves are buzzing and she laughs at herself when she admits she doesn’t have any bread for the sandwich she’d offered to make him. He smiles back at her, open and honest. 

“What am I doing here, Elizabeth?” The question is too spot-on. _He knows,_ she realizes. He knows why she invited him here, but he’s not giving away anything about whether he wants it, too. 

Beth tries to convince herself that she shouldn’t be so embarrassed. _Obviously, he liked having sex with you—I don’t think he was faking that—and there’s no feelings involved, so why wouldn’t he want to? It’s not shameful for a woman to express her desires._ She bites her lip. _You can do this_ , she tells herself.

“I think you know,” she tells him. Her skin erupts into a bright red blush as soon as the words leave her mouth. 

“Say it.” His voice is quiet but firm. “What do you want, Elizabeth?”

It takes everything in Beth not to look away from him. “I want you,” she says honestly.

Rio just gives her the slightest nod, and then he follows her to her bedroom. 

–--

Rio crosses to the other side of the room again, as far away from Beth as he can manage. 

Beth shuts the door softly, and Rio whips around to look at her. His lips are parted and his eyes are already dark.

“It’s just habit,” Beth says quietly by way of explanation. She knows they’re alone and that the door doesn’t need to be closed and yet… she doesn’t want to be reminded of what’s on the other side of it; she just wants them to exist in this room; for a moment, she wants them to forget everyone and everything else. 

Rio swallows and nods his head. His hands are clasped behind his back and he leans up against the armoire. He looks nonchalant, but Beth sees his adam's apple bob up and down. Beth’s breath hitches in her throat, and she can hear her heartbeat pounding out of her. 

She drops the purse with his money in it on the floor. Rio’s eyes are wide—so different than his usually lidded gaze—and he watches her as she slowly begins to unbutton her jacket. Beth can feel how much he enjoys watching her, and her skin burns.

The sound of her boot zippers unzipping shatters the silence in the room. 

Rio’s eyes trail down her body, and the corner of his mouth lifts. Beth follows his eyeline and finds that her socks don’t match. 

Last time, she’d primped. She’d been expecting to sleep with Dean that night, but ended up with Rio instead. She’d waxed and dolled up, put on a sexy pair of underwear and even spritzed perfume. 

Now though? She’d gotten dressed with shaky hands this morning, her mind far away as she’d tried to practice in her head how she was going to tell him it was over. She hadn’t considered that she would bring him back here. 

Her cheeks pinken. Now Rio’s also going to see her laundry day underwear _and_ her MagicLift Posture Back Support full-coverage bra. He’ll feel the fuzz on her legs and get a good look at her C-section scar. 

God, the room is so bright. Sunlight is pouring in through the french doors and overexposing everything. She won’t be able to hide any of it from him. But he’s looking at her like he sees her for exactly who she is standing before him, amused at her socks and entranced by everything else, and she feels beautiful.

 _This is the last time_ echoes through Beth’s head. 

She walks to the center of the room. Rio licks his lips, just barely, and then pushes off the armoire to meet her half-way.

–--

Beth hasn’t had many first kisses. There was Dean, of course. She thought he was going to kiss her at prom, or on her doorstep after prom, but he didn’t. Then she thought maybe at the end of the night on any one of their dates. She’d started getting frustrated, wondering if he was ever going to, wondering if he even really liked her. Ruby had to convince Beth he was either being a gentleman (because he respected her) or a coward (because she made him nervous) and if she wanted to kiss him that badly, she should just do it. So she did. One morning Dean picked her up for school when her mom’s car broke down again, and she just hopped in the passenger seat, leaned over, pulled his face to hers, and kissed him. The adrenaline had pushed her through her nerves and thrilled her to no end. 

Then, there had been Pete Schott and Russell Hartman before Dean. Russell had just been a truth or dare kiss. She’d just waited, slightly nervous by the publicity of it, eyes closed. It over before she’d had time to register it beginning. 

Pete had been her real first kiss. He was just a friend at the time. He’d caught her completely by surprise. They’d been watching Annie terrorize the other kids at the park and just eating ice cream. He’d pointed out some mess on her face, then smashed his lips to hers abruptly. She’d been startled but pleased. He became her first real boyfriend after that.

Then there had been one almost-kiss, almost forgotten, buried deep in her memory. About a year after they got married, she and Dean had actually separated for about six months. Beth had even moved back into her mom’s. Dean hadn't been able to handle the pressure of caring for a wife and a kid (Annie had come to live with them after the wedding—Beth refused to leave her in that apartment with her mother). He’d cried when he ended it, and neither of them had gotten around to initiating divorce proceedings when Beth let Stan set her up on a blind date. 

She couldn’t even remember his name now, it was so long ago, but he had lingered at the doorstep after taking her out to dinner, staring at her lips. Beth had been so nervous. When he’d leaned down to press his lips to hers, she had, without even processing she was doing it, precipitously turned away from him so he got her cheek. She wasn’t ready to move on, she still loved Dean. She’d stepped inside the threshold of the door and immediately burst into tears.

They got back together a few weeks later when Dean’s father passed away. Beth had never even told him about the date.

Because these were Beth’s experiences, she had not really ever felt the exhilaration of the few seconds before a first kiss. Beth and Rio stand, barely touching, hands both at their sides, and she feels Rio’s eyes on her lips. Her skin tingles and she wants two things simultaneously: she wants, desperately, to press her mouth to his, _and_ she wants them to exist in this moment, these seconds just before the kiss, for as long as possible.

She takes in all of his features: his strong jaw; his sharp cheekbones; his long, thick eyelashes; the straightness of his nose. The softness of his pinky finger as he trails it along her face, brushing the hair out of her eyes… 

_Next time, I’m going to kiss you_. When she’d said that, she didn’t know it would also be the last time. 

Rio lowers his head, tilting it just barely. He waits for her to close the gap. Beth inhales. The kiss she presses to his lips is tentative and soft; they can barely even taste each other. She kisses him again, and this time, It’s more of a proper first kiss. it’s slightly firm and Beth can feel the wetness of Rio’s lower lip envelope her own. It makes her want to feel his lips all over her body: fluttered across her collarbone, pressed into her stomach, lingering between her legs.

Beth can feel Rio pull away and her eyes flick open. Rio is studying her face, and he licks his lips before his eyes trail down to her mouth again. Then _he_ kisses her. He lets go of the semblance of control he has been maintaining through laced fingers and clasped hands and standing fifteen feet apart from her. The kiss is slightly sloppy; Rio bumps his nose into her face and puts her a bit off kilter with the force. He has to slide his hands onto her hips to steady her, and she raises her hands to slide up his neck when she suddenly feels self-conscious.

Rio’s walls always fly up when she least expects it—like over a song or a piece of mail. Now she’s about to touch him for the first time. When they had sex in that bathroom, it had been different. Most of their touches had barriers of cloth between them; he’d touched her, sure, pressing his hand against her thigh, and he’d hoisted her up by hooking his arm under her knee, but she had barely trusted herself to touch him. The only thing she’d done was clasp her arm around his neck to balance herself against him as he had thrust into her.

Now though? Now she was going to touch him just to enjoy the sensation of touching him. She wants to feel the muscles in his arms, the stubble grazing his chin, his heart beating out of his chest. Her hands settle gently on his shoulders and she half-expects him to jump out of his skin or step back from her, but he presses his face more firmly against hers. She feels his grip on her waist tighten.

One of Beth’s hands splays across his shoulder blade while the other slides up his neck until she’s cupping his face tenderly. Their heavy breathing is the only noise in the room and Beth’s mind is completely blank besides what her five senses are experiencing in this exact moment. Her fingers feel the softness of Rio’s shirt and the hardness of his buttons as she starts working to take it off of him. She can smell his laundry detergent wafting off his clothes, and taste the whiskey on him. Beneath her lashes, she can see him lick his red and swollen lips when he catches his breath. Everything else is far, far away.

They kiss for a long time, getting more comfortable touching each other. It becomes increasingly hungry and desperate the longer they go. Rio nips at her lips, panting when they pause to breathe. Beth feels overwhelmed with how much it feels like Rio has _wanted_ this. His hands roam up into her hair and he grips the back of her neck as he deepens their kiss. He moans into her mouth and shivers beneath her touch. His shirt is off now, and Beth’s hands feel the heat emanating off his skin, the sharp edges of his hip bones, the firmness of his muscles. 

“Undress me,” she murmurs to him.

A guttural noise comes from Rio’s throat, and he kisses her again, hard. Beth feels his hands slide up her sides to grip her ribcage and then cup her breasts. She sucks on his lip as his hands move to work at her buttons. Rio pushes the fabric off Beth’s shoulders and it falls to the floor at their feet. She feels a finger tuck into the top of her jeans as he fiddles with her jeans button. He doesn’t push his hand down any further, but Beth feels herself clench and tighten just at his proximity.

Rio moves his kisses from her lips to the edge of her chin, down into the hollow of her neck. “Pull down your pants,” he whispers against her skin.

Beth shimmies out of them while Rio lets his fingers glide over the bare skin of her back, and Beth feels her skin erupt in goosebumps. When she finally kicks off her jeans, Rio takes a step back to admire her.

Beth feels his eyes clock her bra: it’s plain and practical, supportive and without frills. His eyes lower to her underwear, which offers full-coverage and comfort. They don’t match, either, one black, one nude. Rio smirks while taking her in. “Leavin’ everything to the imagination, I see,” he says.

Beth flushes. She imagines Rio is usually with women with much better seductive tools at their disposal. Beth curses herself for not planning for this, for not knowing herself well enough to know that her willpower would crumble when she saw his stupid, beautiful face.

Beth gulps. “Yeah, I—Well. I didn’t—It’s just—”

“No, it’s okay,” Rio says, stepping closer to her again, pressing against her as he kisses her neck, so she can feel how hard he is for her through his own jeans. “I’ve imagined plenty.”

“What’s—what’s that mean?” Beth lets out a small moan as Rio’s hands work at her bra clasp.

“It means…” Rio rubs his thumb along Beth’s jaw. “I’ve thought about you. A lot.”

Beth’s bra falls to the floor and Rio kisses her again as he walks her backwards to her bed. Beth stumbles into it, falling onto the mattress as the frame hits her at the knees. Rio tumbles with her, but slides off the bed and sinks to his knees in front of her. Beth sits up and runs her fingers through his cropped hair. 

Rio’s fingers press into her soft and supple hip flesh. He presses his lips between her breasts and his kisses travel south. He licks her just below her bellybutton and Beth squirms. Rio holds her in place tighter.

His mouth moves to her knees, one then the other, back and forth, as he moves higher and higher up her thighs. Beth widens her legs for him.

Rio pauses and looks up at her. “I’m gonna need to hear you say it,” he says.

“Please,” Beth breathes.

“No, I’m gonna need to hear you _say it_ ,” he repeats. “What do you want, Elizabeth?”

“I want—” she rolls her head back. “I want you to feel how wet you make me. With your mouth.” She shuts her eyes tight, embarrassed, but Rio immediately presses his mouth against the thin fabric of her panties and traces one hand down from her hip. He slips his finger beneath the cotton and slides one into her as he nibbles at her almost imperceptibly. 

He pumps in and out of her slowly, gliding back and forth in a way that makes Beth’s eyes flutter. Then she can feel him hooking a finger from his other hand around the material, pushing her panties out of the way, She feels his thumb press against her clitoris and she moans a little. Then, there’s an exquisite feeling as Rio’s tongue presses against her, tasting her. His fingers are quick and deft as his mouth works slow and gentle over her. The tension between the two sensations makes Beth dig her fingernails into Rio’s shoulder blades. 

Rio increases the pace until Beth is writhing. “Don’t stop,” she begs. She feels a tightening low in her belly, pulling tauter and tauter until— _snap—_ it breaks and rolls over her. She moans his name as she comes and he makes a divine nose with his face buried in her. 

Rio pulls away and grins at her, pleased. Then he takes his hands and helps her wiggle out of the very last of her clothes. Rio clasps one of her hands in his and slowly rises to cage her beneath him on the bed. He lifts their laced fingers above her head and she stretches out beneath him. He kisses her again, she tastes herself on his mouth, and he presses into her and she can feel how hard he is. She wants to feel him inside of her _right now_.

Beth pulls her hand back from being pinned above her and begins to unbutton his pants. Rio awkwardly maneuvers to slip out of his skinny jeans and is left in her bed wearing only his briefs. Seeing how turned on he is makes Beth pulls her bottom lip into her mouth.

Beth presses Rio’s shoulder so he rolls onto his back and she scrambles on top of him to straddle him, and then she works her mouth from his lips to his collar bone to his sternum, down, down, down. 

Beth grips him firmly through his briefs and feels Rio twitch beneath her fingers. He sighs in pleasure.

“Tell me what you want, Elizabeth,” he says again. His jaw is clenched tight as Beth strokes him up and down slowly. 

Beth presses her lips to just under his hip bone, where the top of his briefs hits. His skin is soft and hot. She feels too shy to tell him what she wants to do to him. Somehow it was much easier to ask him what to do to her.

“What do _you_ want?” she pushes back. She runs her fingers gently over his head and he shudders beneath her touch. 

“I want you to tell me what _you_ want.” His voice is thick and he props himself up on his elbows to gaze at her.

“I want to take you in my mouth,” she says quietly. 

Rio nods. “Not too long, though. You’re drivin’ me wild.”

Beth slides his briefs down to his knees and then lowers her head to take him into her mouth. Rio runs his hands through Beth’s hair as she sucks. Beth has always liked giving head, always liked the way she had the power to make someone else weak in the knees, all breathy and crazy for her. It’s even better with Rio. He grunts and moans and pulls her hair gently when she does something he likes. 

Beth starts to get really into it when Rio gently tugs at her. “Stop, mama,” he pants. “I have so much more I want to do with you.”

Beth feels her stomach clench again. She nods. Rio catches his breath while Beth rolls onto her back and lets contentment wash over her. 

Rio sits up and finishes taking his briefs off. He crawls on top of her and pushes the hair out of her eyes. 

“Do you got a condom?” he asks.

“Maybe,” Beth says. She hadn’t even thought about that—last time they’d been perfectly irresponsible in the heat of the moment, and otherwise, she hasn’t had to use a condom in years. Dean and her were barely having sex anyway, but she’d never suspected that he might be cheating, so she’d never worried about it. It was possible, however, since Dean _had_ been stepping out on her that she had some lying around here somewhere. “Try the bedside table.” Rio leans over and starts to reach for the one on the right, where Beth stores her vibrator and a few notes from Rio. “No! That’s mine. Try the other one.”

Rio rolls over and reaches to open the drawer. He sifts through Dean’s watches and some pens and batteries, then pulls out a sock with a square box shoved into it. “Think this might be it?” he asks.

Beth wants to roll her eyes. Of course it is. Dean was dumb enough to think putting a box of condoms in his _sock_ in his own _bedside table_ was a smart move to cover his tracks. Then again, she’d never found it, never worried that he might be with other women, so maybe she’s the idiot. 

Rio reaches his hand into the sock and pulls out a box of Trojans. He opens it and rolls it onto his cock, then reaches out to pull Beth to him. They’re each laying on their sides facing each other. Rio starts kissing her again slowly. As the kiss gets more passionate, Rio props himself up to get leverage over her. Finally, he crawls on top of her.

He begins to open his mouth, but Beth cuts him off. “I want you,” she tells him before he can ask. 

He stretches and fills her and Beth moans again. Beth holds her knees so that Rio can thrust deeper into her, but he takes everything excruciatingly slowly. It feels wonderful, but Beth wants _more_.

Rio stares into Beth’s eyes intently. “I love the way you look underneath me,” he breathes. 

Rio’s eyes search her own and Beth feels the crushing weight of what’s about to happen. This will be over soon, all of it, not just this part, and she feels tears prickle at the corner of her eyes. She doesn’t want Rio to see them, though, so she squeezes her eyes shut, then pulls his neck closer to him so she can kiss him deeply, wildly, thoroughly. She tastes his tongue. She wants to inhale him, the salty flavor of his skin, the musk of his sweat. Beth whimpers against his mouth, and Rio picks up the pace. His necklace bounces on her breasts as he plunges deeper and faster into her. Beth, electric with sensitivity from head to toe, feels a second orgasm building.

“I’m close,” she whines, back arching. “Make me come, Rio.”

Rio is frenzied as the friction gets more intense. “Look at me,” he demands. Then, softly, he adds. “Please.”

Beth opens her eyes. Rio smiles at her, and Beth’s mouth falls into her own grin. She feels herself spasm and somehow, Rio moves even faster against her until she feels the throbbing twitch and feels him finish inside of her. 

Rio collapses beside her and for a moment, they both just sit silently and let their breathing normalize. When it does, Rio gets up and cleans himself up in the bathroom. 

Beth lays frozen in her bed. _That_ was not what she had expected. She feels a sob building in her chest, but she doesn’t want to do this in front of Rio. 

He returns from the bathroom and Beth is sitting on the edge of the bed, still naked, vulnerable to his gaze. Rio walks up to her and puts a finger underneath her chin, makes her look up at him.

“You alright?” he asks. “Did I—?”

Beth tries to rearrange her features into something believable. “No,” she says. “No. Believe me, that was wonderful.”

Rio searches her eyes for the truth. He walks to the other side of the bed, pulls down the blankets, and slips underneath the sheet. “Come here.”

Beth turns to look at him. He’s totally different now, here in this space. It’s hard to imagine this is the same person that’s held a gun to her head, the same person that yelled at her that she was just a drug dealer. 

Rio looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to crawl over to him, so she does, letting him spoon her. He runs his fingers up and down her arm and buries his head into her neck. They don’t speak for a long time, and Beth realizes he’s drifted asleep. She can feel the steady breathing against her back, and his fingers are slack, intertwined with hers. 

She wonders... if she were able to stay in his world, if he would always continue to surprise her, or if she’d eventually find her footing with him. He never seems to have the reactions that she expects. When she’d pointed a gun at his face, he’d laughed at her. When she’d given up and asked him if he was going to kill her, he’d touched her gently and promised to teach her. When she’d come crying to him, sure her daughter had been abducted, he’d yelled at her. He didn’t get mad at Jane mishandling his expensive watch, and he only laughed when he heard Dean had tried to go after him. She was sure he was going to tell Dean that they’d been together when he’d stood across from them in Boland Motors, but when she said no, he’d stopped. She feels dizzy thinking about all of it. 

The truth is, and she knows this deep in her gut, that she’ll never be able to make sense of most of him. He’s too private, too guarded, even if he sometimes let her glimpse something else. For all she knows, this still might just be a game to him. As amazing as the sex just was, even then he was unable to verbalize anything to her—only asking what _she_ wanted, never revealing anything about his own thoughts or desires for her. Everything he did do could be interpreted whichever way she wanted to interpret it. It had all felt genuine, but was she just misreading it all, seeing what she wanted to see? It wouldn’t be the first time.

Her stomach flips as she thinks about him refusing to help her until she fixed her mistake and got him his cut. 

_That_ was the simple truth: whatever this had been between them, it had never meant as much as the money or the drugs or moving the cars. 

Beth slips out from underneath Rio’s arm. She finds her robe and puts it on. When she sits back down on the edge of the bed, Rio wakes and sits up halfway, his knee propped up under the sheets. He looks relaxed and comfortable, but she can’t read the expression on his face. Beth turns away and reties her robe shut tighter, just for something to do with her hands.

“My kids will be here soon,” she says. And then she ends it. 

–--

 _If he’s still out there when I get out of the shower, then that means…_ Beth thinks, then stops herself. No, it will be worse if that’s the case. It will make this harder.

It’s better that he doesn’t feel for her what she feels for him. This knowledge is painful, lodged in her chest, but as long as she knows it to be true, she can stay away. 

Beth cleans the house in a burst of energy, removing all traces of Rio: she washes the sheets, pours the bourbon down the drain, and finally, she gingerly takes out the two notes she has from him, the updated drop schedule and the post-it with _Seemed like you were about to run out_ scrawled on it. She studies his handwriting, his messy scrawl, and she wants to cry. She doesn’t, though. 

Today’s supposed to be happy. Her kids are coming home. 

Beth drops the notes into the trash, makes sure to bury it underneath the depressing microwavable turkey and gravy dinner she’d picked at the night before. 

It’s over.

–--

Once the kids are in bed and the toys are picked up and the dishes are running in the dishwasher, Beth slides into her bed with her phone.

If she’s really going to be done, she can’t have any part of him lingering. She knows her fingers will itch to call him, so she knows she has to block his number.

Beth inputs her password and her phone unlocks. Her web browser is still open to the last page she was on, the lyrics she had Googled from the car ride.

Beth sets her cursor to the search box, her finger hovering over the delete key. If she just presses it, she’ll forget what the name of the song is in 48 hours. She won’t have anything left of him. All she has to do is press the button.

Seemingly of their own accord, Beth's fingers instead hits the space bar after “Enamorada by Pedrina y Rio” and types out " _translated_."

She scans over the lyrics:

 _Quiero decirte que te quiero_   
I want to tell you that I love you   
_y confesarte lo que siento_   
And confess what I feel.

 _Quiero decirte … que me tienes trastornada_   
I want to tell you that you have me upset   
_y muy enamorada, enamorada, enamorada, enamorada_   
And very in love, in love, in love, in love.

Beth immediately clicks her phone shut, tosses it on the other side of the bed, and tries to go to sleep. 

The next morning when she wakes, Beth’s pillowcase is tear-stained, but as she angrily strips the pillow and throws the case in the wash, all alone, wasting a load, she tells herself that’s the last time she'll allow herself to feel anything for Rio.   
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The last two chapters were the most difficult to write as I really didn't want to add extra scenes around these key scenes since I think they're so integral to explore. Next chapter, though, will be the first to break from canon and start imagining how things could have gone differently.


End file.
